To Remember
by Saf Dawnheart
Summary: When she left ThunderClan, no one knew. Or so the story goes. — Ash/Tawny.


Another old oneshot, edited and spiced up. I love the ending - it's so ambiguous. :3

But don't ask me to continue it, please. I did that with Aftermath, and, well... Long story short, I really didn't like where I was going with it and I had basically no ideas for anything besides fillers. So, yeah. x.x Feel free to hit me with Sin's Harvest and then swipe me with Sephiroth's katana to finish the job.

...Actually, no. Scratch that. Just yell at me; it hurts a lot less. XD

I've discovered I actually _like_ this pairing. Good Lord, first it's Squirrel x Hawk and now Ash x Tawny, _what is the matter with me?_

**_Disclaimer_**- Do I even have to say anything at this point? Geez...

* * *

Memories are powerful things.

I've discovered, over time, that remaining with one paw in the past can make or break a cat. Although in my case, neither this time nor the past have been very friendly to me.

In the present, I've got a fiery, younger ginger she-cat, who I know I love more than anything at the moment; a ginger she-cat who even now is proudly watching her son and daughter play-fight in the nursery, a son and daughter whose father is a dark tabby, not my pale gray pelt.

In the past…

Well, it's a bit more complicated than you might think.

…Her name is Tawnypelt, and she used to be here, with her family in ThunderClan.

* * *

It'll sound a little strange, but we actually didn't even really know each other. In fact, most of the extent of our interaction was passing each other with a slight grunt of acknowledgment that the other was there. We fought side by side in battles, but somehow I never actually got the chance to _know_ her.

Yet as the days in my apprenticeship went by, I found myself strangely drawn to this determined, abrasive-natured young she-cat, this apprentice who only spoke to her brother and received such hostile glances from all the cats around her. I found myself watching her in a way that young toms should definitely not be looking at young she-cats; yet for me, it wasn't so much a perversion so much as a fascination.

At first I never exactly understood why she was discriminated so – sometimes even more so than her brother Bramblepaw, who everyone avoided almost as though he carried some sort of contagious disease, as though they'd catch it if he got too close. Being little more than a kit back then, I didn't understand. I couldn't understand. Looking back, I don't even think I _wanted_ to understand.

I knew Tigerstar was her father. A half-blind kit could see that Bramblepaw, her brother and practically a smaller rendition of the traitorous dark tabby, was his son. But I couldn't understand for the life of me why no one else could accept it. You couldn't change your heritage, what sort of blood ran in your veins, so why taunt a cat about it, make so they could never let it go?

I couldn't understand.

But then the day after being apprenticed, when she, her brother, and their mentors Fireheart and Brackenfur had gone out to train by the border, she returned with a look of numb sorrow in her pale jade eyes. A look that she had just discovered something that was better left hidden.

Young as I was, I was still older than she, and I knew something was wrong.

Still, though, I tried to accept her. I did my best to ignore the way she curled up at the back of the den that night with that awful brooding look on her face, tried to hold back my urge to go up to her and press against her side and ask what was wrong, and comfort her when she told me. My only thought that could be put into words was _what's wrong with Tawnypaw?, _and the question wouldn't leave me alone – like a gnat pricking and buzzing at the back of my mind. I thought about asking my mother Brindleface about it, but in the end I lost my nerve.

So time went by as usual after that. The threat of Tigerstar still loomed over the forest with the weight of a large, rain-laden storm cloud, but still I managed to try and forget about it.

For the most part, it worked. I trained with Dustpelt and Fernpaw, watching with more than a little amusement of how my mentor would always get so flustered around my sister. I would talk with my one good friend Thornpaw, spending time with him as always.

At the same time, though, I couldn't help but watch Tawnypaw, just as I always had.

She seemed to have recovered from the incident a few moons ago, thank StarClan. Her green eyes had regained their old boisterous luster, and she would come back from hunting laughing and talking with the other cats on her patrol.

In other words, just like normal.

I could've yowled to the skies with relief. It was kind of an irritating weakness of mine, but I loved seeing Tawnypaw happy. Her eyes always lit up, and her normal stubborn prickliness abated, if only for a little bit.

One thing shadowed my relief, though.

Every once in a while, when I guess she thought no other cat was looking, I would catch her looking out toward the Thunderpath, with her head tilted almost thoughtfully to the side and a look of deep consideration in her eyes.

Toward ShadowClan territory.

Everything came together in my mind at some point, and at first I found myself unable to accept what might come. Denial, denial, denial, that was all that permeated my existence at the moment.

_Tawnypaw won't do that. It would only prove the others right, what they've all been saying about her. She won't join her father._

If only I knew how right my assumption was.

* * *

I was just returning to camp with a mouse in my jaws. The dark brown tabby shape of Dustpelt hovered at my side like a living shadow.

"Take that mouse to the elders," my mentor ordered. "Afterward you can go to the apprentices' den." He looked up toward the darkening clouds. "It looks like rain's coming. We're going to need all the rain we can get nowadays."

Nodding in acknowledgment of Dustpelt's words, I padded across camp to the miserable remains of the log that served as the elders' den. Even now my heart quivered sadly at remembering the fire, licking hungrily at the treetops like some sort of orange demon and devouring all that dared to cross it, that had nearly destroyed the entire camp. I was about to enter the den when voices reached me from within – one masculine and reedy from age, and another femininely high-pitched, irritated and familiar.

I froze with one paw in midair as I recognized that voice. _Tawnypaw._

Quickly I stepped aside so I wouldn't be visible from the mouth of the log and, still holding the forgotten fresh-kill, angled an ear toward the conversation.

"Look, Smallear," Tawnypaw was snapping, "I'm doing the best I can, okay? Can't you just believe me on that?"

"I don't see why I should," Smallear snorted, and I heard a scraping on the earth from inside the den, as though some cat had unsheathed their claws – doubtless, Tawnypaw. The old gray tom went on, his words grating – derisive, condescending – against the humid air:"Your father never wanted to help the elders, either. I can see you're going to turn out just like him."

Tawnypaw gasped as though he'd smacked her with unsheathed claws; I barely managed to hold back my own response. It was a moment before she spoke, but when she did, her voice was choked with anger. "You know what, Smallear? You can just get your own moss from now on. The exercise will do your old, creaky joints good."

And the next instant I found myself whirling aside to avoid being caught as Tawnypaw dashed past in a whirl of mottled fur. I caught a glimpse of her green eyes, full of fury and sorrow at once.

Watching her disappear into the forest, the breath caught in my throat as I realized that if she left I wouldn't be able to bear it. As much as I'd been watching her lately, somehow the fascination had transformed into something I dared not put a name to.

Ignoring the voice inside my head screaming that I should just stay out of it, I dropped the mouse in front of the elders' den and raced out in the direction of the gorse tunnel.

"Tawnypaw!"

I flinched almost as soon as the word escaped unbidden from within me. _Great StarClan, Ashpaw, how stupid can you get? Yelling out for the whole forest to hear._

The tortoiseshell shape in front of me halted at once. Slowly she turned, and my eyes grew wide for some reason at the frustration, anger and _fear_ caught in a sympathy-drawing swirl on her features.

"What is it, Ashpaw?" she snarled.

Blinking at the tone of her voice, surprised at her obvious anger, I mentally shook myself. What was the matter with me? "Tawnypaw," I repeated slowly, frantically arranging my speech inside my mind.

"We've already established that you're talking to me," the hotheaded she-cat snorted, turning her head away. A flash of fear danced over her face as she did so, but it was gone so quickly I couldn't be too sure.

My eyes narrowed, the carefulness of the moment before eclipsed by annoyance. "Will you just let me talk?"

"Sor-_ry."_

"Tawnypaw," I began again, "I… um… I saw you and Smallear earlier." Unconsciously my muscles tensed in anticipation of her response. A negative, sarcastic retort, no doubt.

But Tawnypaw shocked me. She only blinked, and at once all traces of anger were wiped from her face to reveal a trace of raw, tender fear and sadness, reminiscent of a cat that had just suffered rejection from a loved one. "You saw that?"

"Yeah."

Tawnypaw said nothing, but I noticed her tail drooped and she had become very interested in what her paws were doing.

"Look, Tawnypaw –" I began, about to reassure her despite the fact that we barely knew each other, caught up in my pity and sympathy for her at the moment.

But she beat me to it, fixing her gaze on mine in a fierce glare.

"Ashpaw, can you keep a secret?"

My mouth closed at once, so quickly my teeth nearly knocked together. Once again, it wasn't what I had expected at all. "Um, sure."

Tawnypaw sighed and her emerald gaze flicked upward to the storm-clad sky. I shifted from paw to paw, waiting for her reply, though a vague sense of apprehensive nervousness deep in my stomach heralded the fact that I thought I already knew.

At last she spoke – without looking back at me, I noticed – and her words were all the more frightening because she wasn't snarling anymore.

"I'm leaving ThunderClan."

My eyes grew huge at hearing those three simple words. Words I heard almost every day, though not necessarily in the same order. Yet now they nearly knocked me over, coming from this stubborn she-cat who had seemed to be doing fine, who never gave up on anything. The ground seemed to sway beneath me with the impact of what she had just said.

Tawnypaw continued, seemingly oblivious of the change her words had wrought in me. She spoke hastily, practically all in one breath, as though trying to cover her surrender to her heritage. "I'm going to ShadowClan to be with my father. They'll accept me there."

At last she found the strength to bring her eyes down to meet mine, and I shivered at what I saw in her deep green pools. For some reason the pain and sorrow lurking there almost for a moment became my own, and my paws tingled with the impulse to suddenly leap after her, hold her down, _beg_ her to stay.

Gazing into my own dark sapphire orbs, Tawnypaw recovered some of her old spunk. "They'll accept me there," she repeated, more firmly this time. "I can see I'm not appreciated in ThunderClan."

A million replies whirled through my mind, and unbidden my mouth half-opened in protest. But then it hit me:

_She's not changing her mind._

And like before, a single sentence made me feel dizzy.

But I knew it was true.

So I merely nodded, and stepped aside. "Go on," I muttered.

Tawnypaw only stared at me in surprise; I guess she was expecting more resistance than that.

"Didn't you hear me?" I said at last, lifting my head and staring at her hard. "Go to ShadowClan if you must! The rain's coming; you should try and get there before the storm."

My words must've come out harsher than I'd meant, because Tawnypaw's eyes widened before she nodded, whipped around and rushed off in the direction of the Thunderpath.

How bitterly ironic that the instant her pelt disappeared into the blurred ebony-and-jade of the blended shadow and foliage, the first clap of thunder sounded.

All the words I wanted to say to Tawnypaw came rushing back to the tip of my tongue at once, and the numbness immediately evaporated, to be replaced by a strong, burning sense of guilt and sadness.

I'd deprived the Clan of one of the possible best new warriors. Tawnypaw had thrown everything away in her old life with only a sprint across the Thunderpath – her brother, her mother, everything that had once been so familiar.

But now I couldn't help but think to myself: I'd just thrown away a possible friend.

Almost unable to move with the strength of my own self-contempt and guilt, I turned with the leaden slowness of moving through deep water and padded unseeingly back to camp.

I'd made a promise to Tawnypaw: _keep her secret._ And I intended to do just that.

* * *

That was then, though. This is now.

The new territories have brought on so many changes. When I look back now, it seems like so long ago that the Twolegs ravaged the forest and forced the Clans to leave, even though it can't have been more than four moons.

Squirrelflight has become one of my closest friends. And yet I can't help but think how _badly_ I want it to be so much more.

But sometimes I wonder… what would've happened if Tawnypaw – now Tawnypelt – had stayed in ThunderClan. The fate of the forest would be so different, for she was the chosen one from ShadowClan that led us to this new territory. So in a way I'm a little glad that I let her go.

_Everything happens for a reason,_ as Brindleface always said.

What if Tawnypelt had stayed, though?

It's one of those annoying "what-ifs" that sometimes keeps me up at night, plagued by thoughts of what would've been.

I still see her at Gatherings, don't get me wrong. I just can't help but wonder…

…if I'd told her about my stupid little apprentice crush.

Unconsciously, my gaze raises to the sky – late sunset. Firestar's already on the Highledge, calling those who shall go to the Gathering tonight.

My dark blue eyes flash to the blaze of my leader's pelt and I tilt my head thoughtfully.

…Perhaps it's not too late after all.

* * *

For some reason this oneshot makes me think of the song Grand Theft Autumn by Fall Out Boy...

This will probably be my last Warriors thing for a while. I'm not even allowed to buy Firestar's Quest or Secrets of the Clans at this point, so I'll have trouble keeping up with the series canon. But if I _am_ back in this fandom, it'll be for something Jay x Willow or Breeze x Holly. So, goodbye to you all, unless you play _Tales of the Abyss_ or _Kingdom Hearts_.

In which case... keep an eye out for me. XD


End file.
